


"Mira, Jesse! Cuetes!"

by Porkchop_Sandwiches



Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 14:33:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17245919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Porkchop_Sandwiches/pseuds/Porkchop_Sandwiches
Summary: Cuete (plural cuetes):1) A firecracker2) A pistolOh and corn on the cob, bumper cars, Ferris wheels, and like water guns and shit at the New Mexico State Fair with Jesse, Andrea, and Brock.





	"Mira, Jesse! Cuetes!"

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SegaBarrett](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SegaBarrett/gifts).



> For the prompt "sweet bonding time with Jesse, Andrea and Brock!"

Jesse had done some pretty embarrassing shit in the past, but he wasn't crying at the New Mexico State Fair. Well, not _again_. First time totally didn’t count though ‘cause he was like maybe six and his dad lost Jesse in the crowd right next to the petting zoo, and Jesse had like crumpled into a fucking ball and tucked himself up all close to the animal pin ‘cause it made him feel safe or whatever. And yeah a goat sort of definitely made a Happy Meal out of the hood of his jacket before his dad found him.

Guess it made Brock a smart fucking little dude to like take the initiative and clamp onto Jesse’s hand once they got their tickets and made their way past the entrance and a ton of tourist-looking dudes in cowboy hats. His hand was like a third of the size of Jesse’s and real warm and like soft, like Jesse was holding a puppy. And damn it if that shit didn’t make Jesse’s eyes water maybe just a little bit. Sniffing, he smiled the second Brock’s head whipped up ‘cause of course they were in a magical world of blinking lights and giant-ass cotton candy and rides literally whooshing by them, and this kid was checking on him.

His eyebrows sort of like went up together like Andrea’s did sometimes. “You okay, Jesse? We don’t have to go on the Ferris wheel if you don’t wanna. I won’t tell nobody.”

Jesse laughed. “Nah man, we’re totally ridding the Ferris Wheel. It’s like State Fair tradition, yo.”

Brock snickered. He always laughed when Jesse said “yo.” Jesse just shook his head. He let a woman with a bolo tie and denim shirt pushing a stroller pass him. It was fucking weird how agricultural farm shit brought out all the hardcore western people from the fucking woodwork.

“Yo, bumper cars or ring toss first?”

Brock cocked his head to the side. “Can we wait to do bumper cars until Mama’s here?”

“Good idea _, dude_ ,” Jesse said, pointing at him.

If Brock got all giggly when Jesse said “yo,” he fucking lost it when he called the kid dude. And he was laughing maybe the hardest Jesse had ever seen him in public. He was usually pretty shy, but he was still going strong even as they weaved around a group of teenagers smacking each other with inflatable hammer toys. Jesse sort of knew somewhere in the back of his head that he should be freaking out being in charge of Brock like all by himself. Andrea had to pull a last minute shift at TJ Maxx ‘cause some chick called out sick and they apparently really needed her to fill in ‘cause it was like a Saturday evening and shit. She told Jesse she’d meet them there when she could and like totally thanked him a lot for taking Brock anyway. It was no big deal really. Jesse wanted to go. He liked hanging with Brock.

And like fuck it if Jesse didn’t feel awesome holding his hand while trying not to bump into too many people ‘cause Brock looked just so damn happy. He even picked out one of his nicer collared polos: this light blue one with stripes, looking like he’s going to picture day. Jesse was just glad it was sort of a bright color since the sky was already getting pink, sun like a pixelated sliver falling behind a cloud like the first block in a game of Tetris or something.

Brock squeezed Jesse’s palm. “Are you good at basketball?”

“Uh,” Jesse said. Brock had stopped in front of one of those hoops games with the giant stuffed animals. “I’m…alright.”

How could Jesse break the dude’s heart with him grinning all hopeful and shit? Plus, there was only like a dad and his daughter in line in front of them and Jesse had like a wad of cash in his wallet for this exact kind of situation.

After paying some bored dude with emo bangs filing down some seriously scary-sharp nails, Jesse got handed a hella deflated-ass basketball. Shit felt like a five-week-old orange that rolled under somebody’s fridge. But Jesse totally amped it up, passing the ball between his hands around Brock’s head.

“You ready for this, yo? Ready for some Michael Jordan magic?”

“Just throw it, Jesse,” Brock said, giggling.

Jesse raised his arms, jumping a little off his heels, totally failing the arch-like finesse-shit he was going for. The ball smacked into the netting and rolled down.

His next two shots were just as shitty, but Brock went back to holding his hand as the kid shrugged and told Jesse that at least he did his best.

Jesse still wanted to make it up to him but he couldn’t find any fucking ring tosses. He was good at that shit too. The line to the two dart throws was way too long so Jesse settled for the water gun game ‘cause no way was Brock leaving this fair without a prize.

It was pretty simple too: just aim at the target with your water gun, and if you hit it hard and fast enough to make the rubber duck float up to the top of the tube-thing, then you won.

This middle-aged lady in a matching orange corduroy vest and pants motioned him to sit down once he paid. “Start whenever you’re ready, honey.”

“Thanks,” Jesse said.

Brock was cracking up behind his hands covering his face, and Jesse smiled as he locked his finger around the plastic trigger. It felt pretty flimsy and cheap, but it was still a trigger. A gun was a gun even if it was like neon green and shit. But whatever, Jesse wasn’t in Mexico anymore. He was spraying water for fuck’s sake. Brock was tickling his side like he did to the kid when they played video games. Nobody was bleeding, not even a fucking like PS2 zombie.

A red light went off with a happy-sounding siren. Jesse sort of still jumped like a little bitch.

“Pick a prize, sugar,” Corduroy Lady said, talking to Brock this time.

And the kid blushed and leaned into Jesse. He took his time like surveying all the stuffed dolphins and armadillos and giraffes before pointing to a row of plastic bags with goldfish. Getting a little bolder, he gently cradled the third bag to the left with the like chubbiest motherfucker out of the bunch.

“Can I have this one, Jesse? Please?”

Jesse crouched down even though it made him feel like Danny-fucking-Tanner, but the situation made it seem like necessary. “Hey man, a pet’s kind of a big responsibility. You ready to like feed it and clean its bowl?”

Brock nodded. “My abuelita has a whole tank of angel fish and she lets me feed them all the time and help her clean the tank. Please, Jesse? Mama’s allergic to dogs but not _fishes_.”

Worst case scenario Jesse would be getting a shiny, new roommate so Jesse nodded and got a two-armed bear-hug around his right leg, so tight his jeans were still wrinkled as Brock guided them to the ride he’d had his eye on. It was kind of like the teacup spin-thing at Disney Land except they were big, friendly-looking dragons. The blue one matched Brock’s shirt and also Jesse’s…product.

Jesse scratched at his jaw, trying not to think about that or doing cooks without Mr. White or worrying about how Mike was doing in Mexico. Mr. White had already texted him twice today asking to meet up. Fuck that guy.

“Is the sea and the ocean the same thing?”

They were about thirty in line for the dragon ride and it was hard for Jesse not to space out. He sort of wanted a cigarette. But the whole fair was like a no smoking zone. Plus, he never liked doing it around Brock.

Jesse nodded. “Why?”

“Do goldfish live in the sea?”

Jesse felt stupid not knowing. Mr. White would know the difference between all the salt and fresh water fish. Mr. White was a prick yeah, but sometimes Jesse wished he knew more shit like that.  

“Yo, I don’t know,” Jesse said. He’d rather look like a dumbass than lie to the kid. “We should look it up later.”

Brock shrugged. “Last night after dinner at my abuelita’s, she told Mama when they were doing dishes that they’re lots of fishes in the sea. I heard your name too, Jesse. But then they saw me and talked fast Spanish. My fast Spanish isn’t very good. Mama says I should practice more.”

Jesse had to blink a couple of times ‘cause that was a mouthful, and he was pretty sure they were like discussing deeper shit than just angelfish. They moved up in line.

“What do _you_ think?” Jesse asked. “About practicing your Spanish?”

Brock scuffed his shoe against the pavement, shrugging. “None of my friends in school talk Spanish. They’re all uh…gringos…like you.”

Jesse snickered. “But dude, talking in Spanish is like having a super power.”

“How?” Brock raised an eyebrow.

“Uh _duh_ , you can like transmit secret messages that other people can’t understand. It’s like totally a super power.”

Brock smiled, gripped Jesse’s hand tighter, repeating “ _super_ power” kind of under his breath. He studied the goldfish bag he’d been holding super carefully. “I’m gonna name him Oro ‘cause it means gold in Spanish.”

Jesse could have sworn he heard the kid say “ _super power_ ” again as they finally stepped onto the ride. He seemed nervous until it started up and they had this kind of table-circle-deal he turned hand-over-hand like the wheel of a car and it spun them faster. The whole damn fair looked like it was in the inside of one of the industrial washing machines at the laundromat. The sky was by then totally black with the twinkling lights shinning like constellations or maybe the like glittery-ass floor at All Fours Cabaret. Not that he’d even stepped foot in a strip club in over a year. His Saturday nights were a little different and even with his stomach doing summersaults inside of him, Jesse wouldn’t have changed nothing.

He barely felt nauseous when they got off, but then they went on a small roller coaster with no loops that Brock was tall enough for and they went on this swing one for kids that didn’t go up as high as the like teenager version. After like five other rides they decided to get some food. Jesse picked out a bench pretty close to the jumbo Ferris wheel ‘cause the view was dope. Plus, he’d heard it was like healthier for kids to eat sitting down than walking around.

Jesse had fucking polished off his mountain of onion rings when he felt somebody sit like way too close next to him. They kissed his cheek.

“Found you guys,” Andrea said. She was wearing this red, floral shirt with other swirly pattern-stuff that reminded Jesse of like a fancy Persian rug except in a hot way ‘cause like there were boobs. Her hair looked pretty even though she’d been at work all day. She smelled like the spicy, orange perfume he bought for her birthday. “What I miss?”

“Jesse won me a goldfish!” Brock held his bag up in the air like a pro-wrestler’s belt. “I named him Oro!”   

“Que chido!” Andrea said. Jesse knew that meant like, how cool! And she actually sounded like she meant it. She gave Brock one of those like sneaky, knowing looks they did sometimes around Jesse. “Good timing too since Abuelita has her old fish tank she’s trying to get rid of.”

Brock was trying real hard to look totally innocent with a mouthful of corn dog. “Can I get a fried Twinkie, Mama?”

“What else have you eaten? Lots of junk food?”

“ _Corn on the cob_ ,” Brock said, rolling his eyes.

Andrea laughed. “Corn on the cob?”

It took Jesse a minute to remember he was part of like this conversation. Yeah it was cheesy as hell but he got so sucked into just watching these two be all happy-family together that he forgot he got like an invitation to be part of it even a little.

Jesse shrugged. “It was the only vegetable they had and you’ve been talking about like Brock getting, you know, more vegetables and stuff. And you”—

He didn’t really have anything to say after that so he was kind of relieved when Andrea kissed him, just a peck, but enough for Brock to grumble real loud with his own lips smeared with ketchup. And it was decided the kid needed to clean his face and hands before he was getting any Twinkies. He wanted to go into the bathroom by himself, so Jesse just checked it out for him first, glad to see it was empty before giving Brock some privacy.

Andrea waited out front with him. The wooden pirate ship ride next to them was under construction or closed. It was fucking huge, sort of look haunted, and put like a creepy sort of shadow or something over them. But it also meant like nobody was really around. He put Oro behind his back, licked his lips and gently pressed her into the wall, giving her way more than a peck.

“What are we, fifteen?” She chuckled but only pulled away a little.

Before he could say some sly shit, she grabbed him by the collar of his t-shirt and slipped her tongue in his mouth. Maybe it was tacky but it had been like over a week since they’d made out ‘cause either he was in Mexico or Brock was around. And anyway they totally jumped off each other like a couple of teenagers fooling around in the backseat of his mom’s ’96 Ford Taurus _the_ like second they heard the hand-dryer blowing.

Brock wanted to take Oro back from Jesse as they got in line for deep-fried Twinkies. They were selling Oreos and Milky Way bars and Cheetos-covered-bacon-on-a-stick too.

“Cheetos dust is so good,” Brock said. “It’s crumbly like fish food. Do you think Oro could eat Cheetos dust, Jesse?”

 _Finally_ , a fish question he totally knew.

“Nah. Even though it looks similar, that stuff would like poison him. Just stick to fish food. Yo, promise?”

He held his knuckles out and Brock gave him a super serious fist-bump and nod.

It was a funny thing to see, almost as hilarious as watching the dude fucking wolf-down his Twinkie like a total champ. Andrea gave him like _half_ of one of her Oreos ‘cause she was pretty much starving and she wasn’t real big on sharing chocolate. But thankfully none of them got sick on the bumper cars even after Brock totally rear-ended Jesse like five times and Andrea was like hollering louder than the fifteen-year-old girls knocking into their boyfriends.

Jesse may have had a smug look on his face when Brock chose to hold his hand again even with “Mama” there now. He was gonna make a joke but Andrea was smiling like all soft all the way to the jumbo Ferris wheel. And the line was literally a hundred fucking people but Jesse wasn’t even mad.

He elbowed Brock. “Think you can see Mars from the top?”

" _No_ ," Brock said, snickering. "Do you want to play a car game?"

Apparently when Andrea and Brock got stuck in bad traffic, they went back and forth listing things that started with each letter of the alphabet. Any word was legit except for swears and it had to go along with whatever like category was picked. Brock wanted to do "things that were cool."

"Anchovies," Jesse said, straight-faced as hell. He needed to throw out at least _one_ dad-joke.

Brock grimacing totally made it worth it too. Though the face he made when he got "J" and blurted, " _Jesse_ ," might have been the best thing Jesse had seen all day. They were on a movies round by the time they got up to the front and into an empty like gazebo or whatever they called it. Jesse liked that his feet didn't dangle down and it had two small swinging doors. Brock sat on one side and Andrea slid in next to him so Jesse got in across from them.

It only took a couple of seconds before they were gliding all the way up to the top.

"I knew you couldn't see Mars," Brock said.

Jesse smiled. "Totally called it, yo."

Brock laughed and looked out at one serious dope view of like the whole fair: the big green barn where earlier in the day they were showing off the animals, that crazy slingshot ride that looked like they were putting people in like a fucking hamster-ball-looking death-trap, so many lights on lights on lights it almost reminded Jesse of a Christmas tree. He hoped shit was still good with him and Andrea by Christmas. It would be pretty boss waking up that morning and opening presents with Brock.

" _Shit_ ," Jesse said.

The sound was like the crack of gunfire behind him and he realized he had an arm on both Andrea and Brock like he'd just stopped real fast at a red light. They were looking at him like he'd gone fucking nuts...or maybe past him?

Brock pointed. "Mira, Jesse! Cuetes!"

He was thinking maybe he was the one who needed to take some Spanish lessons but then there was another _boom_. And oh yeah alls he needed to do was just turn his neck to the right and sure enough the sky was exploding with fireworks. He totally forgot they did this from like time to time. And he couldn't believe the chances of them being on the like tallest thing here for a giant firework show.

"Yo, perfect seats right?"

He jumped when he felt a warm chest on his back but like instantly settled when Andrea's arms went around his waist. She rested her chin on his shoulder. Brock was like engrossed with a display of those sizzling gold ones that always reminded Jesse of palm trees.

Andrea whispered, "Do you want to sleep over?" 

Jesse nodded. He liked the way her deep voice sounded in his ear, the way her curly hair felt on the side of his face, her giving him just a small kiss on the back of his neck. Putting her hand on his leg seemed sort of too much, but it was actually Brock's. Then he was sitting on Jesse's lap. The kid was cradling the bag with Oro inside as he like gazed up into the sky. It was a flash of pink when Andrea reached out further to hug Brock up against him.

And yeah part of Jesse was secretly nervous about them being all-up in the air and on one side now and tipping over. But mostly this moment right then and there, just the fucking three of them, was like maybe, definitely, really awesome.


End file.
